


Helping Hands

by Lynx22281



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel in the Bunker, Come Shot, Hand Jobs, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-02
Updated: 2014-10-02
Packaged: 2018-02-19 15:46:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2394044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lynx22281/pseuds/Lynx22281
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a run-in with a monster, Dean ends up with two broken arms and has to rely on help from Castiel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Helping Hands

It was only a matter of time before Dean’s next big injury came around. 

 

Over the past few years, he'd been electrocuted trying to take down a rawhead, mauled by a hellhound, had his leg broken by a leviathan, been tossed into a car window by a golem, nearly beaten to death by his brother, nearly beaten to death by his best friend, dislocated his shoulders, broken his fingers, broken his nose, broken his wrists, the list goes on and on and on.  He couldn’t even remember all the times he'd been shot.

 

The minor injuries were treated with a few stitches, some plaster, or a quick jerk to set a joint back in place and healed on their own.  The big ones were taken care of by dying and being resurrected or with the touch of an angelic hand pressed to his cheek.

 

His last big injury had been back in the crypt when Cas beat the shit out of him while under Naomi's influence.  Thankfully, the angel had still been juiced up at the time and was able to heal him before jumping off to who-knows-where for several weeks to hide from Heaven.

 

This time, Dean wasn't so lucky.  Well…he was alive.  That counts for something, right?

 

He and Sam had gone up to Custer, South Dakota to investigate reports of a big wolf roaming through the Black Hills National Forest.  Yeah… _big wolf_ was an understatement.  Some guy who turned into the biggest werewolf they’d ever come across had decided to take up residence in a run-down cabin on an isolated bluff overlooking Stockade Lake.  Apparently the guy was trying to keep to himself and stay away from temptation, but his wolfie-self had gotten the better of his human-self and started attacking campers in the area during the full moon.  He’d killed a park ranger and a family of four before the local fish and wildlife office got concerned that a rabid canine was on the loose.

 

The Winchesters had taken care of him, but not before he launched Dean over the side of a ledge.  The drop down to the trail below hadn’t been huge, six feet at the most, but Dean caught himself funny on the landing and ended up with two broken arms.

 

After a quick dine-and-dash at Custer Regional Hospital, Dean now sported full wrist-to-shoulder casts on both arms, a la Uncle Jesse on _Full House_ (though thankfully, he didn’t get the full torso plaster, too).

 

It wasn’t too bad…no, wait.  That was a total lie.  This was probably one of the worst things to ever happen to him that didn’t involve somebody dying.  At least when the leviathan broke his leg, he could still function for the most part.  He’d been a little slow, but he could take a damn piss without needing someone to aim for him.  Sam had seen his dick more in the last week than he had over his entire life.  Don’t even get him started on the other things Sam had had to do for him.  But, they were brothers with a motto of just _Grin and Bear It!_   Plus, Dean had changed more than his fair share of Sam’s stinky diapers, so it was time for his little brother to repay the favor.

 

Sam came into the library, a full sheet of printer paper in hand with a long list scrawled out in three distinct and vastly different sets of handwriting.  “I’m heading out.  Anything you need to add to the list before I go?”

 

“Nah, I’m good,” Dean called over his shoulder from the squishy armchair front of the TV in the library.  The chair was better than the couch because he could prop his arms on the armrests to take some of the extra weight from the casts off his shoulders.  It was about as comfortable as he could hope to get for the time being.

 

His brother came up and loomed over the side of the chair.  “Do you need to pee before I go?”

 

“Nope.”

 

“Are you sure?  I’ll be gone for at least three hours.”

 

 _Thank you Men of Letters for building your bunker in the middle of fucking nowhere_.  The nearest Walmart was in Concordia, 50 miles away.  They usually made a day of the trip – saw a movie, found a decent restaurant to eat at, did some window shopping before actually filling the Impala’s trunk with supplies to last them until their next monthly trek to town.

 

“Yes, _mom_.  I’m sure,” he said, rolling his eyes.

 

“Ok, well, Cas is in the lab if you need him,” Sam reminded.

 

Most people would have laughed their asses off when they first set eyes on Dean with red fiberglass casts (yes red, he wanted to pretend he was Iron Man…shut up…) on both arms and _then_ asked him what happened.  Castiel had been absolutely horrified that Dean had been injured so badly, especially now that he couldn’t heal Dean with just a tender touch to his freckled face.  To make matters even worse, the former angel had been avoiding him like the plague ever since accidently jostling him a couple of days ago and making Dean yelp out in pain.

 

“I’ll be fine.  I got my drink and my crazy straw and the remote.”  With a stiff finger, Dean pointed to each item next to his propped up socked feet on the low coffee table, indicating that he was all set for the afternoon while Sam was away.  “There’s a _Dr. Sexy_ marathon starting in about ten minutes, so I probably won’t even notice you’re gone.”

 

Sam pursed his lips together, making an aborted little wiggle like he still wasn’t sure he should leave his poor crippled brother with just Castiel for company for a few hours to go stock up on all the things their pantry was lacking.  If it had just been food that they were running dangerously low on, then he’d run down to the tiny mom-and-pop store at the corner of Main Street and Chicago Avenue.  But, they’d run out of laundry detergent and dryer sheets, Castiel had broken his toothbrush and used the last of his fancy bee shampoo, Sam needed new undershirts since all of his had holes in them, and Dean needed a case of oil for the Impala (not that he could actually give her an oil change himself right now, but he could supervise while Sam did it), not to mention the dozen or more other non-food items they desperately needed to pick up.

 

“Would you feel better if I told you that I’ll probably be asleep before you even leave the town limits?”  He punctuated his question with a very real yawn.  Sam was making sure he stayed on top of his scheduled pain meds and his most recent dose was just starting to tip him towards drowsiness.

 

“It does, actually.”  Sam huffed a laugh.  “I’ll be back as soon as I can.  Want me to bring dinner?”

 

“Yeah, burgers or tacos, whatever’s fine by me,” he replied with a shrug, not really looking forward to either choice.  It was impossible to cook with two bum arms, but he didn’t trust Sam or Cas to not burn down the kitchen, even if he hovered over their shoulders while they tried to cook.  His digestive system was going to have a fit when he started shoving fast food at it again.   

 

“If you think of anything else, just call me.”

 

Dean lifted up his right arm, looking down the length of the cast to where his pinkie and thumb were miming a phone.   He pursed his lips together and raised a brow at his brother.

 

“Right.  Well, get Cas to call then.  I’ll be back as soon as I can.”  Sam nodded and headed down the corridor that would take him by the room where Cas was holed up so he could let him know that he was leaving on his way to the garage.

 

Dean scooched down in the seat to get comfortable just as the _Dr. Sexy_ theme music started playing and was, as predicted, asleep before Sam made it to the highway outside of town.

 

He had no idea how much time had passed when he woke up, but it had been at least an hour; the episode playing now was not the one that had been on when he fell asleep.  He blinked sleepily, arms instinctively reaching up to rub at his eyes, and scowled when he discovered yet another thing he couldn’t do with his arms out of commission. 

 

As if that wasn’t enough to make him grumpy about waking up, he had to pee, too.

 

Hefting himself up out of the low, overstuffed chair was easier said than done when he couldn’t really put his weight on his arms.  He wiggled forward in the seat until he could kneel down on the floor, and then stand up from his knees.  Everything was such a damn hassle!

 

Standing up wasn’t the best thing to do.  Gravity took over making his bladder felt even fuller.  There was no way he was going be able to hold it until Sam got home.  His brother had already threatened to buy Depends after Dean tried holding his bladder on the trip back to Kansas when he realized he couldn’t go to the bathroom his own.  Holding it was a bad idea, period.  He didn’t want to end up with a bladder infection on top of dealing with the broken arms.  He’d had too many as a kid from not drinking enough water and not peeing enough on long car rides that he didn’t want to do that to himself now. 

 

With a sigh, he went off in search of Cas, which didn’t take very long since Cas was right where Sam said he’d be. 

 

Wanting to earn his keep in the bunker, Castiel had been spending his days down in one of the workshops making hex bags, protection charms, amulets, potions, and anything else he could think of that might be useful to the Winchesters and any other hunters in need.  Charlie had even set him up with a website so hunters could order his stuff.  He was turning into quite the entrepreneur (it helped that he was doing it under a well disguised pseudonym since most of the other hunters out there weren’t big fans of the Winchesters or their former angel).

 

Cas was hunched over an honest-to-God cauldron, patiently stirring something that smelled faintly like an overripe banana soaked in rubbing alcohol with a long wooden spoon.

 

“Hey Professor Snape, how’s it hangin’?” Dean quipped with a smirk.

 

Cas’s brow furrowed as he looked up from the simmering liquid in the pot.  “Snape is the bad guy, Dean.  I don’t like the correlation between him and myself.”

 

“Oh.”  Dean frowned slightly.  “Wait, you haven’t finished the books yet?”

 

“I’m in the middle of _Order of the Phoenix_.  I don’t like it very much,” he admitted.

 

“Yeah, Harry’s a brat for most of the fifth book.”

 

“I’m glad I never went through puberty.  I imagine it would have been unpleasant.”  Cas warily glanced down to his potion after it gave a nasty belch and splattered grayish purple goop up against the rim of the caldron.  “Do you need something, Dean?”

 

“Uh, yeah.  Actually…I um…I have to pee.”  He looked down at the floor, scuffing his socked toe along a crack in the tile by the edge of the doorway.

 

“Sam warned me that you would probably need assistance before he got back.”  He slid a heavy iron lid over the pot and turned off the hot plate it sat on before going over to the deep sink on the far wall to thoroughly wash his hands.

 

“I really hate to ask, but well…”  Dean shrugged.  It was the lesser of two evils.  He could either ask for help up front or somebody would have to hose him _and_ the bathroom down if he tried to go on his own.

 

Castiel gave him a patient smile.  “It’s alright.”

 

Thankfully there was a washroom right across the hallway from the workroom.  It was little more than a half-bath, just a sink and a toilet, but it had more open space for them to maneuver in than the main bathroom down in the living quarters, which had stalled toilets that were barely big enough for one person let alone two overgrown men.

 

Castiel was as efficient and professional as a nursing assistant who helped people pee for a living.  He stood behind Dean, arms loosely wrapped around Dean’s sides, raised up on his tiptoes with his chin hooked over Dean’s shoulder so he could see where he was aiming.  _God damn_ , he had the softest hands Dean had ever felt.  It was pretty obvious that Jimmy had never done a day’s hard work in his life as a salesman for ads on an AM radio station.  Cas hadn’t been without his Grace long enough to actually acquire any callouses from the past weeks of crafting items to sell on the website and weapons training that Dean and Sam were helping him with.

 

He was so caught up in how gentle and caring Castiel’s touch was that he forgot to be freaked out by the fact that his best friend was holding his dick while he was peeing.  Cas gave his penis the ol’ shake and squeeze, waiting for the last drip before tucking Dean back into his boxers and sweatpants.  Well, at least he’d been human long enough to master the fine art of male urination.

 

“Thanks, man,” Dean said quietly as Castiel washed his hands at the sink.  By now, he’d probably be rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment, but that was kinda hard to do since he couldn’t bend his elbows.

 

“It was no problem,” Cas replied.  When Dean didn’t make a move to leave the bathroom, he asked, “Do you need anything else?”

 

“Nah, I’m good.”

 

“Do you mind if I…?” he trailed off as he eyed the toilet meaningfully.

 

“Oh!  No, go ahead.  I’m just…gonna…um…go back to the library.  _Dr. Sexy’s_ on TNT.  Thanks again.”  Dean hightailed it out of the washroom, hearing the door click closed behind him.

 

*****

 

Sam came back two hours later and Castiel helped him unload bags and boxes from the Impala.  For lack of anything better to do, Dean tagged along, following them on their many trips between the garage and the kitchen.  After putting the perishables in the freezer and fridge, they sat down together at the kitchen table to eat the tacos Sam brought for dinner.  Sam alternated between taking a bite of his own taco and holding Dean’s up for his brother to take a bite, while discussing with Cas whether silver thread or gold thread was more effective in dream catchers.

 

After they finished eating and put away the rest of the supplies, they went their separate ways for the evening.  Sam was tired after the long drive and shopping by himself.  He planned to take a shower and read a little while in his room before going to sleep.  Cas went back to the workshop to check on his maturing concoction, which Dean learned was a dream potion that he was putting together for one of their contacts down in Florida who was chasing a spirit that possessed people via their dreams.

 

Dean settled at one of the library tables with Sam’s laptop and the TV on quietly in the background.  He could henpeck his way through typing website addresses and Google searches well enough that it wasn’t too much of a pain to spend a few hours surfing the internet.  The _Dr. Sexy_ marathon was still playing, though now it was showing the latter half of the previous season when Dr. Palmer and Dr. Piccolo ended up in bed together at least once every episode. 

 

Close to 3am, he’d read through all of his usual internet sites and watched the last episode of the marathon (the season finale which was a solid hour of the two lead characters having sex all over the hospital and each other’s apartments).  Just as the _Cops_ theme started, he turned off the TV and shut down the laptop, plugging it in to charge up overnight. 

 

Sam’s door was shut and the light was off when Dean started down the corridor where their bedrooms were.  Castiel’s door was cracked open and he could see the dark-haired man sitting in bed, his face lit by the blue glow of his Kindle.  He knocked lightly on the door.

 

Cas set aside his tablet and pushed himself up to his feet.  “Are you ready for bed?”

 

“Yeah, can you…ya know..?”  Dean nodded towards the bathroom door.  “I hate to bother Sam.”

 

“Of course, Dean.”

 

In the same perfunctory manner as before, Cas helped Dean wash up, change clothes, and brush his teeth.  Dean wasn’t sure if he preferred Cas helping him over Sam or not.  Sam talked and joked with him the whole time while Cas was almost like an extension of himself, doing the things Dean would do for himself as quietly and unobtrusively as possible.  He got lost in the feel of Castiel’s hand on his dick yet again.  It was nice, which was a feeling he definitely didn’t get whenever Sam helped him go to the bathroom.    

 

Castiel dutifully followed him to his room.  “Do you need anything else?”

 

“No, thanks for helping me out today,” he said, snuggling down into his memory foam as Cas pulled the covers up from the foot of the bed to cover his legs.

 

“You’re welcome,” Cas said as he turned off the lamp on the table next to Dean’s bed, leaving just the hallway light to illuminate his way out of the room.  “If you need anything, you can come get me.”

 

“Night, Cas.”

 

“Goodnight, Dean.”

 

*****

 

A week’s worth of injury-induced celibacy, a night-long dream about the staff at Seattle Mercy Hospital having a massive orgy in the operating theater, and the memory of Castiel’s touch made for a pretty delicate situation when Dean woke up the next morning.  Not only did he have sticky boxers from his first wet dream in years, but he was also sporting major morning wood.

 

This boner wasn’t the run-of-the-mill, sleep chubby that he woke up with most mornings.  This was a raging, _I’m-so-horny-I-could-die_ erection.  Pressing his hips into the mattress felt good, but wasn’t enough.  He needed a hand wrapped around his dick giving it a rough jerk.

 

Flopping over on his back, he hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his underwear and shimmied them down his hips before trying his best to get his fingers to his cock.  The forced bend of his elbows just didn’t let him get a good reach.  He could get the tips of his thumb and forefinger to pinch around his shaft, but that ended up being the worst tease ever. 

 

The smell of bacon and eggs wafting down the hallway didn’t help matters either.  Sam must have stopped by the diner down the road after his daily ass-crack-o’-clock run.  His stomach groaned and his mouth watered, but there was no way he was leaving his room until the tent in his boxers went away.  He was hungry and horny, and couldn’t take care of first until he dealt with the second.

 

He turned back over onto his stomach, hooking his knee over his extra pillow to give him something to rut against.  He wasn’t adverse to a little dry humping to ease the ache in his groin, but it would be so much better if he was humping a firm, living person rather than a soft, squidgy pillow that didn’t give anything back.

                                             

“Dean, are you awake?” came Cas’s voice from the crack in the door as he knocked.  Dean had to leave his door ajar since he couldn’t grip the fat door knob well enough to turn it, but thankfully his brother and Cas were still respectful enough not to just barge in.  “Sam sent me to tell you your breakfast is getting cold.  He brought you blueberry pancakes.”

 

He whined into his pillow, stilling his hips.  He loved blueberry pancakes.  They were the pie of pancakes.

 

“Dean, are you ok?” Cas asked with concern at Dean’s sound of distress, poking his head in the door.

 

“Yeah, yeah.  I’m fine,” he muttered into the pillowcase trying to reassure Cas enough that he’d go away.

 

“Would you like me to help you in the bathroom?”

 

Dean sighed, but didn’t say anything.  It wasn’t like he could pee at the moment anyway.

 

After a few silent seconds, Cas carefully ventured, “Would you prefer to have Sam help you?  I realize you may be more comfortable with your brother handling certain…functions.”

 

Dean snorted and lifted his head up from the pillow to look over his shoulder at Cas.  “Nah, this is something I definitely don’t want Sammy’s help with.”

 

“Oh,” Cas said, voice lifting with understanding.  “I see.”

 

Dean expected him to head off back to the kitchen; he did not expect Cas to shut the door behind him and sit on the edge of the bed.

 

“My offer to help still applies,” he said tentatively reaching out to place his hand on the lump of Dean’s calf under the covers.

 

Dean swallowed hard.

 

Cas just looked at him with his big, dumb blue eyes, his pink mouth a line of utmost patience as he waited for Dean to make a decision.

 

Dean couldn’t lie to himself.  He’d liked Cas as more than just a friend for a while now (like, years if he was totally honest), but every time he psyched himself up to confess his feelings, the angel either flitted back off to Heaven or did something so monumentally stupid that Dean ended up mad at him for weeks.  There was no way Cas was flitting off to Heaven any time soon and opportunities for doing stupid things were severely limited now that he mostly kept to the safety of the bunker, but Dean still hadn’t been able to bring himself to admit out loud that he was in love with his best friend in the months since Cas showed up battered and sad on their doorstep.

 

He was human again, permanently this time.  The enormity of the change was overwhelming.  It felt too much like trying to take advantage of the guy at the lowest point of his entire existence if Dean started making advances now.  Cas had so much humanity to explore and experience before he began to make big decisions for himself right now.  If he wanted to go be on his own for a while or get a job or find new people to hang out with, Dean wasn’t about to stand in his way.  So, he held off.

 

Dean wandered so far down the twisty-turny road of thoughts in his head that he didn’t notice Castiel inching his way closer until there was a hand running over the thin sheet, up the back of his thigh.

 

“Cas…?” he asked, voice cracking like a 13-year-old’s.

 

“Please let me help,” he replied quietly.

 

Dean’s body totally disregarded the warning bells going off in his head as it slowly rolled over.  His legs twisted up in the sheets, pulling them down so that his cock was exposed from where it half-hung out of his boxers.  He held his breath as Cas reached out, taking his swollen member in hand.  Cas’s touch felt even better now that his dick was fully on board with being handled.  He couldn’t help the low groan pulled from deep in his belly when Cas’s fingers curled around his cock, hips twitching to push himself even more firmly into Cas’s grasp.

 

Castiel gave Dean’s cock a timid stroke, frowning at the drag and pull of his dry palm on Dean’s skin.  “Do you have –”

 

“Drawer,” Dean interrupted with a nod towards his bedside table.

 

With his free hand, Cas rummaged through the drawer.  Instead of the half-empty bottle of Astroglide, he pulled out a slim sky blue vibrator. 

 

Dean blushed fifteen shades of red and threw his arm over his face in an unsuccessful attempt to hide his embarrassment, but Cas just put the toy back in the drawer without comment and retrieved the lube.  Before Dean could get too hung up about the fact that somebody else knew he occasionally liked something in his butt, Cas’s slicked up hand wrapped around him and started stroking up and down his length.

 

His eyes rolled back in his head at how awesome the sensation was.  He hadn’t had another person touch him intimately in such a very long time.

 

A second hand pressed gently against his balls, fingers turning down to rub against his perineum.  It was almost like Cas knew exactly how he touched himself and was doing his damnedest to recreate all of Dean’s signature moves.  For one brief instant, he stumbled over the idea that Cas knew what to do because Cas had seen him jerking off before.  He should be mortified, but in the moment all he could think of was how hot it would be to know for certain if Cas had ever snuck a peek during one of Dean’s alone-times.   

 

The feel of something warm and wet against the head of his cock brought Dean back to the present.  He opened his eyes just in time to see Castiel’s pink tongue swirl over his sensitive flesh.

 

He froze, breath caught in his lungs, eyes wide open, every muscle locking down, as his orgasm rushed up from the very tips of his toes.  The first thick, white rope of spunk erupted from his slit, landing on Castiel’s nose.  The second spurt hit his chin.  He reacted just in time to catch the rest of it with his tongue.

 

Dean had never been a big fan of cumshots.  He’d never done it to another person before and never went looking for videos of them on porn sites.  But, the sight of his come splattered over Castiel’s face, marking the fallen angel as his, made his dick twitch, longing to do it again.

 

Sudden realization of what just happened between them struck like a punch to the gut and he was at a complete loss for what to say or do now.  Was this no big deal?  Would they part ways and act like it never happened?  Or was it a game changer?  Would Cas hate him for what happened?

 

He watched helplessly as Cas smeared his fingers through the mess on his face before bringing them to his mouth to suck clean.  When he was finished, he turned contrite blue eyes on Dean. 

 

“Cas…” he began, already seeing the regret in his friend’s eyes.

 

Castiel interrupted before he could continue.  “I’m sorry, Dean.  I didn’t mean to let it go that far.  I’m sorry for taking advantage of you in your weakened state.”

 

Dean blinked.  Cas was full of surprises this morning.

 

“No, no,” he said, quickly sitting up so he could reach out to brush his fingers over Castiel’s stubbled jaw.  With a self-deprecating huff, he gave Cas a small smile.  “I’ve uh…actually been wanting to do that for a while.  Just haven’t had the balls to let you know.”

 

Cas was quiet for a while, so long that Dean worried about the timing of his confession.

 

“I’d like to kiss you now,” the former angel stated plainly.

 

“Yeah,” he said in agreement as they leaned towards each other, mouths meeting in something that felt so right and natural that Dean could only guess this was what a homecoming felt like.

 

*****

 

Later that night Dean pretended he didn’t feel good, giving Cas the excuse to spend the night in Dean’s room.  Sam didn’t question it when Cas said he wanted to be close to Dean in case he needed help in the middle of the night. 

 

Sam pretended he was none the wiser over the next five weeks.

 

When the casts finally came off and Cas didn’t move out of Dean’s room, Sam didn’t make a big deal about it, other than to tape a sign saying _FINALLY!_ to Dean’s bedroom door.


End file.
